Tata's Quest
by Funkadelict
Summary: Tata pretended to be the Legendary Hero...now, six years later, he is still remembered as a faker. What can he do to clear his name? NEW--Chapter Three, "Encounters" added! Tata goes into Porre, and meets a love and an enemy.
1. Prologue

Tata's Quest ****

Tata's Quest

By John Funk

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Prologue

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598 AD

Merian Engles paused, hearing an oddly familiar noise. Slowly, warily, she looked around. With a sharp exhale, the woman straightened up from her position at the washtub. In her youth Merian had been tall, vibrant, with eyes that sparkled with life, but now she was older, slightly shorter and more frail. However, the glimmer of energy still lingered in her pale brown eyes. 

The maddeningly familiar noise sounded again, and this time Merian was able to tell the direction from which it was coming. "Jorge?" The woman called out for her husband. 

"Yes, Merian?" Her husband, Jorge Engles, was a heavily built man, with a bushy black beard and frizzy hair that made him look as if he had been stuck on top of a mountain during a lightning storm. Currently, Jorge was carrying a large axe with which he had been chopping wood only moments before. "Why did you call me—" He stopped as he too heard the noise. "Do you hear that?"

Nodding, Merian turned to him, pointing into the thick forest that surrounded their remote little cabin. "It came from there…" 

Once again, the two of them heard the noise, and Jorge hefted the axe into both of his hands, and held it as if he were ready to strike. "I bet it's one of those Mystic monsters…" he rumbled in a throaty bass voice. "I'll show him…" Like a soldier ready for battle, he began to dash into the underbrush as the noise sounded again, but a sharp gasp from his wife stopped his charge before it even started. "Merian?" He turned, worried, expecting to see his beloved wife injured at the very least, but she was fine.

"No, Jorge, don't!" Merian had now recognized the very familiar sound for what it was. Slowly, tentatively, she walked past her husband and into the forest. Merian had taken barely ten steps when she stopped, and motioned for Jorge to come to her. The large man did, a look of puzzlement on his face. Before he could ask what was going on, Merian brushed several branches out of the way, exposing a small hollow in the ground.

In that hollow, a young girl, who appeared to be seven or eight at the very most, was curled up into a ball, head buried in her hands, weeping. The girl had long blue hair that was gathered at the top of the back of her head into a large ponytail. She was dressed in a purple robe that looked so soft, so incredibly silky, that it almost appeared fluid. The robe was much too large for her, however, looking better suited for a much older and bigger girl. 

Merian's kind heart immediately took pity on this poor child. She had always loved children, had always wanted one of her own, but her and Jorge's attempts to create life had never been fruitful. All of her heart immediately went out to this poor abandoned girl. "Honey?" She whispered, crouching down beside the crying tot. "Sweetie, are you okay?" Merian vaguely noticed Jorge sitting down beside her and slipping his large hand around her own, but all of her attention was on the child.

Slowly, sniffling, the young girl looked up at the couple, and the two of them were taken aback. The most noticeable thing about the girl was how the curve of her ears gently rose into soft upswept points. However, what both Merian and Jorge both assumed was a birth defect did not mar the beauty of her face. Even at this young age, the elderly couple could tell that the girl would be absolutely gorgeous when she came of age. She had brilliant emerald green eyes, puffy from crying, but that captured the dim light of the sun and reflected it in intricate patterns that were always changing. 

The second thing that Jorge and Merian noticed was the necklace she wore. On a silver chain around her neck hung a large blue stone that sparkled with an inner fire. Neither of them had ever seen anything like it, and they had seen a lot in their years. The two of them shared a glance, both wondering if she was a member of a wealthy family or possibly even royalty. "Are you okay, sweetie?" Merian asked, turning back to the girl. "Are you lost?"

Again, the girl sniffed. "I…I…I don't know…" she spoke in a high-pitched, melodic voice. "I…I can't remember…" 

"Where did you come from?" This time, Jorge asked the girl the question, and she seemed to shrink away, as if she were terrified of his bulk. Slowly, as to not startle her, Jorge reached out to touch the pendant. "Where did you get this?" he inquired. Before he could actually touch it, however, the girl jerked away with a yelp. 

"No, don't touch!" She began to cry. "It's mine…"

In a soothing voice, Merian tried to calm the girl down. "Yes, we know it's yours…but where did you get it? Where did you come from?"

The girl looked as if she were going to start bawling again, so Jorge quickly interjected with another question. "What's your name?"

It took the girl what seemed to be ages to answer, as if she had to dig that knowledge up from deep within her mind. Shivering, the girl responded, "Schala…" 

"Well, Schala, why don't you come with us and we'll get you taken care of…we'll find your parents, don't worry, honey." Merian said, offering the girl her hand. 

Schala looked up, and tentatively took the woman's hand with her own, pulling herself up into a standing position. However, she hadn't taken more than a step before she collapsed into a pile underneath the silky purple robe. Fearing the worst, Jorge and Merian both knelt beside the young girl. "The poor dear's exhausted…" Merian said. "Quickly, Jorge, help me carry her inside!"

That night, the couple stood in the doorway to the bedroom, watching the small girl named Schala sleep. "We're not going to find her parents, are we, Merian?" Jorge whispered. "Who knows where she came from?"

Merian sighed softly, and leaned against her husband for support. "I don't even think she knows…you heard, she can't remember a thing, except for her name…"

"Oh, I'm sure she knows. She was just very distraught this afternoon, that's all." 

However, Merian shook her head. "No, Jorge. She's eight. She was calm enough to be able to remember her parents, but she couldn't. Why do you think that is?" Jorge could only shrug. A long silence passed. "Jorge…Schala needs someone to raise her."

Looking down at her, Jorge raised a bushy eyebrow. "Merian…" he began, looking concerned.

"No, hear me out." Merian explained, looking her husband in the eyes. "She can't remember where she came from or who her parents are…she's lost, alone…we've always wanted a child, Jorge. We can raise her as our own granddaughter…it's the best way," Merian paused. "For her and for us. Please, trust me, Jorge." She pleaded. 

Jorge took his wife in his arms, and gazed through half-closed eyes at the slumbering form in the bed. "I guess you're right, Merian. I guess you're right…we'll take care of her. She's our Schala now…"


	2. Tata the Hero

598 AD ****

Chapter One

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AD 606

"All right, Ozzie, prepare to meet your Maker!" Tata Maluvi, the Legendary Hero, growled. Brushing a strand of spiky purple hair from his eyes, the young man raised the large sword he held and got back in a battle stance, legs bent, eyes focused on his target. "I'm the Legendary Hero!"

In front of him, the tub of fat known as Ozzie chuckled, drool dripping from his open mouth. Ozzie belched and looked at the human with his beady little eyes. "Oh, little one, I think not! You don't want to hurt me, otherwise I might have to kill our special little guest…" The squat creature snapped his fat green fingers, and four of his little Imp servants dragged in a young woman, about Tata's age of sixteen. The woman was dressed in a purple tunic, and her blue hair was tied back in a ponytail. Tata gasped as he realized who it was—it was Schala.

The Imps dropped her on the cold stone floor unceremoniously, then beat a hasty retreat. Schala looked up, saw Tata, and smiled weakly, her gentle green eyes sparkling. "Tata…my hero. You've come to rescue me…"

"Oh, shut up." Ozzie grumbled. His fist came around and slammed into the back of her head. The girl moaned and collapsed onto the ground, and lay there unmoving.

Eyes wide, Tata jumped back. "Schala!" He cried out. Tata glared at the leader of the Mystics. "What'd you do to her?" His grip tightened around the sword's hilt, his knuckles turning white. "If you've hurt her, Ozzie, you're a dead…whatever you are." Tata lifted the sword above his head. "Do you recognize this, monster? It's the Masamune! The sacred sword! And I will use it to destroy you!"

Ozzie belched and laughed, his fat rippling as he chuckled. "Oh, really?" He pointed at Tata and bellowed, "Henchmen, kill this human!"

All along the walls, secret doors slid open, and what seemed to be hundreds of Mystics poured into the room, all laughing evilly. Tata looked around and saw that he was surrounded—the monsters had quickly formed a circle around him. Outside of the ring, Tata noticed Ozzie waddling out of the room, escaping. He was carrying the unconscious Schala over his shoulder. "You coward!" Tata shouted. "Come back here and fight!" However, Ozzie was gone. Then the Mystics attacked. 

The Hero Tata leapt over a zombie in his path, then turned and brought an end to the creature's miserable existence with a quick slash from the Masamune. He dove right into the midst of the monsters, hacking, slashing, stabbing, frantically trying to get through them. However, there were simply too many. Tata fell back under the flow of monsters, overwhelmed. 

Then he saw her face in his mind. That beautiful face, with exotic upswept ears and soft, gentle eyes…her beautiful lips in a pout…he would save Schala at all costs. In his hands, Masamune began to glow a deep crimson… "Omnicut!" Tata screamed, his voice hoarse, and unleashed a powerful blast of scarlet energy. 

When the dazzling glare faded, all was quiet in the room. Tata blinked to restore his vision, the aftereffects of the glare all too present. When finally his sight returned, the room was empty of any other life. All that remained of the monsters was the pile of armor and weapons on the stone floor. At any other time, Tata would have gloated; now, Schala's sweet face drove him relentlessly onward. Kicking an Outlaw's scimitar out of his way, Tata sprinted out of the doorway into the chambers beyond, where Ozzie lurked, holding Schala captive.

As the young warrior ran into Ozzie's inner sanctum, he saw the fat monster sitting on a throne, Schala sprawled on the floor at his feet. "You!" Ozzie pointed a blubbery finger at Tata. The other finger was lodged up his nose. "How did you defeat all of my guards?" 

Tata held Masamune up, ready to fight. "I told you. I'm the Legendary Hero. And I'm going to save my Schala." With those words, he leapt into the air, his purple hair flying. Ozzie panicked and tried to run away, but he found himself firmly stuck in his throne. 

"Ozzie's in a pickle!" The fat leader of the Mystics yelped as he watched Tata descend, Masamune held over his head. "Ozzie's in a jam!" He paused, closing his eyes and fantasizing. "Mmmm…pickles and jam…" And then Tata landed, striking a fatal blow with the legendary blade Masamune. Ozzie disintegrated before the young hero's eyes. 

His foe vanquished, Tata now turned to the young woman on the floor beside the monster's throne. The young man slid Masamune back into its sheath and knelt at Schala's side, taking her slender hand in his own. "Schala…are you okay? It's me, Tata…"

Slowly, Schala's emerald eyes slid open, and she smiled. "Tata…my hero…you came to save me…"

The hero Tata bent over his one true love and embraced her. "Schala, I love you…" He leaned in close.

"Yes…Tata, I love you too…" Schala wrapped her arms around him and pulled herself up. Their lips drew closer, closer…Tata moved forward to kiss her… "Oh, Tata…Tata…Tata!"

"TATA!" Nicol Maluvi growled. "Get up, you lazy good-for-nothing!"

The young man's eyes opened to see his father standing over his bed, looking a bit annoyed. "Sorry…" Tata yawned. "Dad."

Nicol snorted. "You better be sorry. It's almost the middle of the day!" Tata's father was holding a hatchet in his hands. A large crack ran down the middle of the axehead, nearly splitting it in two. As Tata climbed out of his bed and stood up, the older man tossed the tool at him. Deftly, Tata reached out and caught it in midair. Before the boy could say anything, his father said, "Take that into town, get the smith, Mr. Freidman, to repair it. Okay?" 

Stretching, Tata yawned again and set the broken hatchet down on the floor. "Okay, Dad. I'll take it in." 

His father nodded and smiled. "Okay, I'll see you tonight." He turned and left, and Tata heaved a sigh. Even though Nicol Maluvi had smiled, his eyes were still the same. They still echoed disappointment and feelings of betrayal. 

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Why can't they all just forget about it? Tata thought bitterly as he pulled on his deer-hide pants. _It's been six whole years!_ However, even though six years had passed, what seemed to be the entire kingdom still remembered Tata's false claim to the title of the Legendary Hero. Especially his father. His father, who hadn't looked him straight in the eyes for six years. Oh sure, he was a good father, even though he had a slight drinking problem, but the disappointment was always in his eyes.

His white tunic tied around his waist with a leather belt, Tata ran a hand through his spiky purple hair and pulled on his hide boots. He looked out the window and shivered—it was another cold autumn day. Tata yanked his leather gloves on, and bent over to pick up the hatchet. Fastening his pouch of gold onto his belt, Tata walked out of his room, down the stairs, and out the door.


	3. Encounters

As always, the smithy where Mr

As always, the smithy where Mr. Friedman worked was filled with deafening cling and clatter as the ironsmythes forged tools and the occasional weapon. Weaving around two ironworkers that were hammering a white-hot hoe into shape, Tata called out over the din, "Mr. Friedman!"

The burly owner of the iron-smithy, Mr. Friedman, turned around and smiled as he saw the young man. "Tata! How's your father? What can I do for you today?" Nicol Maluvi and Mr. Friedman had been friends as children. Tata almost found it depressing that they were still in the same town that they had lived in as children. They hadn't seen any of the world. Nevertheless, Mr. Friedman was a very kind man, and an expert ironsmith. 

Several sparks landed on Tata's white tunic, and he brushed them off nonchalantly. "My father's good, Mr. Friedman." Deftly, Tata grabbed the broken hatchet from his belt, threw it in the air, and caught it right below the fractured blade. He handed the tool to the large man. "My father wants to know if you can fix this."

With the eye of an expert craftsman, Mr. Friedman looked the tool over, his brow furrowed. "This doesn't look like it'd be too difficult to repair, Tata. I don't have any jobs at the moment, so I should have it done in an hour or two. Come see me then, all right?" Tata nodded. "I'll see you then, Tata, my boy!"

After a quick goodbye, Tata strode out of the deafening roar of the smithy into the main street of Porre Village. He shivered a bit in the cold crisp autumn air, then looked around, wondering what he could do for two hours to pass the time. Out of the corner of his eye, Tata suddenly caught a flash of purple and blue, and immediately turned. His heart caught in his throat as he realized it was her. _Schala…_

Schala Engles was sitting on a bench outside the Porre Inn, watching the passersby with an air of interest. As usual, she was dressed in her tunic that was the color of Tata's hair, with the odd blue stone on a necklace around her neck she never took off. Tata soon realized he was staring and with a red face he looked away before she could see him.

After almost a minute of standing in the middle of Porre Square feeling quite abashed, Tata made up his mind to go over to Schala. He swallowed and began to walk over to her.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Mr. Legendary Hero." Came a snide voice from behind Tata. A rough hand grabbed his shoulder without warning and pushed him to the hard cobblestone street. 

Once his head stopped spinning, Tata found himself looking at a pair of boots, as immaculately clean as shoes got. He followed his gaze up and immediately felt an urge to roll his eyes. "What are you doing here, Alec? Last I heard, you were up in Truce with your drunk…I mean, father." Tata looked up at the other boy, a wry grin on his face.

In a second, Tata wished he hadn't cracked that remark. Alec Nemo was tall, slender yet muscular, with handsome features, cold blue eyes, and shoulder-length black hair kept in a ponytail. He also had one of the worst tempers ever known to mankind. "Don't you _dare _speak about my father that way, idiot. He's a great warrior, you know. He fought in the Mystic War. Which is more than anyone in your family did. All you can do is lie and pretend to be better than you are." Alec spat, and the spittle landed on his immaculate boots. "You aren't even worthy enough to clean that off of my shoes. Your dad's the drunk. Not mine." 

Anger building up inside him, the purple-haired teenager momentarily forgot about Alec's size and temper, and got to his feet. "If your dad was such a great warrior, why did he almost get kicked out of the Army? For cowardice?"

A horrible look of rage crossed Alec Nemo's features, and the bigger boy drew back his fist. "Why you…" he growled. Tata balled his hands into fists and held them up protecting his face, tensing himself for the blow that he knew was coming.

"What's going on here?" A soft, sweet voice asked. Tata turned his head to the side. _Schala…_The beautiful girl was standing to his left, her slender hands on her hips and an expression on her face that expressed mild annoyance at what would have been the fight. Tata could only marvel at how regal she seemed, especially for someone who lived in Porre.

Tata was about to respond when a fist hit him solidly in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him in a painful wheeze. Stepping back, Alec Nemo dusted his hands off and watched with a smirk on his face as his former opponent sunk to the ground, gasping for breath and doubled over, holding his stomach in agony. "Moron. Never let your guard down. See, this proves it—you and your family aren't worth goat spit."

Sparks flashed in Tata's vision as he tried to draw breath. Suddenly, he felt a soft hand on his back. "Are you all right?" Schala's melodic voice whispered in his ear. Weakly, he nodded. The girl began to softly rub his shoulders. "That was just a cheap trick. He's an idiot, don't listen to what he says."

Alec laughed. "Oh, look at the two of you!" He paused, thoughtfully. "You know, the two of you are just made for each other. You're both freaks! I mean, Tata here needed to lie to make everyone think he was worth something. And you—Schala, right?" Again, Alec paused and grinned maliciously at Schala and Tata. "Not that it matters, anyway. But you! You're not even human! Look at your ears, they're freakish! Hey, everyone," Alec Nemo called to the passersby, most of whom were pretending nothing was going on. "Look at the freak! What happened, did your mother find your dad too wimpy? So she slept with a Mystic? I'll bet that's it! You're half-Mystic, aren't you! You're a half-monster!" the boy laughed coldly.

Again, Schala spoke. But this time her voice was icy, virtually all traces of the kindness she normally exhibited gone. "Be quiet. You don't know a thing. My parents were killed by Mystics when I was a child. I grew up never knowing them. If you dare say I'm even partially related to those creatures…" She hissed.

Tact was obviously not in the dictionary Alec Nemo used. "Your parents were killed by Mystics? They probably _were _Mystics, and ran off with them! Face it, you're just a monster. Both of you, worthless! A liar and a monster, it's too perfect!"

"Don't talk to her like that, you bastard!" Having gotten his wind back, Tata Maluvi sprang to his feet, startling both Schala, who jerked back, and Alec, who jumped. Closing his eyes, Tata envisioned that he was a Hero, and that he was saving Schala from an evil monster…he wound up and landed a massive blow right on Alec Nemo's nose. 

The taller boy reeled back, his ponytail flying. When he found his footing again, Alec reached up and touched his nose. His finger came away red, as blood streamed from his nasal cavities. "Oh, you little rat, you'll pay for that." Ignoring the blood pouring from his nose, Alec spun around. His foot shot out, catching Tata right in the solar plexus and throwing him back into Schala. The two of them tumbled to the ground in an ungainly heap. 

Alec's cold blue eyes narrowed. "Worthless…" he muttered, holding a gloved hand to his nose. With that, the boy turned on his heel, flipped his ponytail back from over his shoulder, and stalked away.

His vision wavering, Tata watched him go, wishing he could get up and tear his throat out…but then the world went black, leaving him alone and wishing he had never found the Hero's Medallion…


End file.
